Читать книгу The Little Demon - Fyodor Sologub - Страница 13

Peredonov felt depressed. He had no more caramels in his pocket and this added to his depression and distress. Routilov was the only one to speak almost the whole way. He continued to laud his sisters. Only once did Peredonov break into speech, when he asked angrily:

"Has a bull horns?"

"Well, yes, but what of it?" asked the astonished Routilov.

"Well, I don't want to be a bull," explained Peredonov.

"Ardalyon Borisitch," said Routilov in tones of annoyance, "you will never be a bull, for you are a real swine."

"Liar," said Peredonov morosely.

"I'm not a liar—I can prove I'm not," said Routilov spitefully.

"Go ahead and prove it."

"Just wait, I'll prove it," said Routilov. They walked on silently. Peredonov waited apprehensively and his anger with Routilov tormented him. Suddenly Routilov asked:

"Ardalyon Borisitch, have you got a piatachek?"[1]

"I have, but I won't give it to you," answered Peredonov. Routilov burst out laughing.

"If you have a piatachek, then you are a swine," he exclaimed.

Peredonov in his apprehension grabbed his nose and exclaimed:

"You're lying! I haven't a piatachek—I've got a man's face," he growled.

Routilov was still laughing. Peredonov, angry and rather frightened, looked cautiously at Routilov and said:

"You've led me purposely to-day by the durman[2] and you've durmanised me so as to lure me for one of your sisters. As if one witch wasn't enough for me—you tried to make me marry three at once."

"You are a queer fellow. And why didn't I get durmanised?" asked Routilov.

"You've got some way or other," said Peredonov, "perhaps you breathed through your mouth instead of your nose, or you may have recited a charm. For my part, I don't know at all how to act against witchcraft. I don't know much about black magic. Until I recited the counter-charm I was quite durmanised."

Routilov laughed. "Well, and how did you make the exorcism?" he asked.

But Peredonov did not reply.

"Why do you tie yourself up with Varvara?" asked Routilov. "Do you think that you'll be happier if she gets the inspectorship for you? She'll rule the roost then!"

This was incomprehensible to Peredonov.

After all, he thought, she was really acting in her own interests. She herself would have an easier time if he became an important official, and she would have more money. That meant that she would be grateful to him and not he to her. And in any case she was more congenial to him than anyone else.

Peredonov was accustomed to Varvara. Something drew him to her—perhaps it was his habit, which was very pleasant to him, of bullying her. He would not find another like her however much he sought.

It was already late. The lamps were lit at Peredonov's house; the lighted windows were conspicuous in the dark street. The tea-table was surrounded with visitors: Grushina—who now visited Varvara every day—Volodin, Prepolovenskaya, and her husband Konstantin Petrovitch, a tall man, under forty, with a dull, pale face and black hair, a person of an amazing taciturnity. Varvara was in a white party dress. They were drinking tea, and talking. Varvara, as usual, was distressed because Peredonov had not yet returned home. Volodin, with his cheerful bleat, was telling her that Peredonov had gone off somewhere with Routilov. This only increased her distress.

At last Peredonov appeared with Routilov. They were met with outcries, laughter, stupid coarse jokes.

"Varvara, where's the vodka?" exclaimed Peredonov gruffly.

Varvara quickly left the table, smiling guiltily, and brought the vodka in a decanter of rudely cut glass.

"Let's have a drink," was Peredonov's surly invitation.

"Just wait," said Varvara; "Klavdiushka will bring the zakouska.[3] You great lump," she shouted into the kitchen, "hurry up!"

But Peredonov was already pouring the liquor into the vodka glasses. He growled:

"Why should we wait? Time doesn't wait!"

They drank their vodka and helped it down with tarts filled with black currant jam. Peredonov had always two stock entertainments for visitors—cards and vodka. But as they could not sit down to cards before the tea was served, only vodka remained. In the meantime the zakouska also were brought in so that they could drink some more vodka. Klavdia did not shut the door when she went out, which put Peredonov into a bad humour.

"That door is never shut!" he growled.

He was afraid of the draught—he might catch cold. This was why his house was always stuffy and malodorous.

Prepolovenskaya picked up an egg.

"Fine eggs!" she said. "Where do you get them?"

Peredonov replied:

"They're not bad, but on my father's estate there was a hen that laid two large eggs every day all the year round."

"That's nothing to boast of," said Prepolovenskaya; "now in our village there was a hen that laid two eggs every day and a spoonful of butter."

"Yes, yes, we had one like that too," said Peredonov, not noticing that he was being made fun of. "If others could do it, ours did it too. We had an exceptional hen."

Varvara laughed.

"They're having a little joke," she said.

"Such nonsense makes one's ears wither!" said Grushina.

Peredonov looked at her savagely and replied:

"If your ears wither they'll have to be pulled off!"

Grushina was disconcerted.

"Well, Ardalyon Borisitch, you're always saying something nasty," she complained.

The others laughed appreciatively. Volodin opened his eyes wide, twitched his forehead and explained:

"When your ears start withering it's best to pull them off, because if you don't they'll dangle and swing to and fro."

Volodin made a gesture with his fingers to indicate how the withered ears would dangle. Grushina snapped at him:

"That's the sort you are. You can't make a joke yourself. You have to use other people's."

Volodin was offended and said with dignity:

"I can make a joke myself, Maria Ossipovna, but when we're having a pleasant time in company, why shouldn't I keep up someone else's joke? And if you don't like it, you can do what you please. Give and take."

"That's reasonable, Pavel Vassilyevitch," said Routilov encouragingly.

"Pavel Vassilyevitch can stand up for himself," said Prepolovenskaya with a sly smile. Varvara had just cut off a piece of bread and, absorbed by Volodin's ingenious remarks, held the knife in the air. The edge glittered. Peredonov felt a sudden fear—she might suddenly take it into her head to slash him.

"Varvara!" he exclaimed. "Put that knife down!"

Varvara shivered.

"Why do you shout so? You frightened me," she said, and put the knife down. "He has his whims, you know," she went on, speaking to the silent Prepolovensky, who was stroking his beard and apparently about to speak.

"That sometimes happens," said Prepolovensky; "I had an acquaintance who was afraid of needles. He was always imagining that someone was going to stick a needle into him and that the needle would enter his inside. Just imagine how frightened he would get when he saw a needle——"

And once he had begun to speak he was quite unable to stop, and went on telling the same story with different variations until someone interrupted him and changed the subject. Then he lapsed again into silence.

Grushina changed the conversation to erotic themes. She began to relate how her deceased husband was jealous of her, and how she deceived him. Afterwards she told a story she had heard from an acquaintance in the capital about the mistress of a certain eminent personage who met her patron while driving in the street.

"And she cries to him: 'Hullo, Zhanchick!'" Grushina related, "mind you, in the street."

"I have a good mind to report you," said Peredonov angrily. "Is it actually permitted for such nonsense to be talked about important people?"

Grushina gabbled rapidly to try and appease him:

"It's not my fault. That's how I heard the story. What I've bought I sell."

Peredonov maintained an angry silence and drank tea from a saucer, with his elbows resting on the table. He reflected that in the house of the future inspector it was unbecoming to speak disrespectfully of the higher powers. He felt annoyed with Grushina. This feeling was intensified by his suspicion of Volodin, who too frequently referred to him as "the future inspector." Once he even said to Volodin:

"Well, my friend, I see that you are jealous, but the fact is I'm going to be an inspector and you aren't!"

Volodin, with an insinuating look on his face, had replied:

"Each to his own. You're a specialist in your business and I in mine."

"Our Natashka," said Varvara, "went straight from us and got a place with the Officer of the gendarmes."

Peredonov trembled, and his face had an expression of fear.

"Are you telling a lie?" he demanded.

"Why should I want to tell you a lie about that?" answered Varvara. "You can go and ask him yourself, if you like."

This unpleasant news was confirmed by Grushina. Peredonov was stupefied with astonishment. It was impossible to know what she might say, and then the gendarmes would take up the matter and report it to the authorities. It was a bad look-out.

At the same second Peredonov's eyes rested on the shelf under the sideboard. There stood several bound volumes: the thin ones were the works of Pisarev and the larger ones were the "Annals of the Fatherland."[4] Peredonov went pale and said:

"I must hide those books or I shall be reported."

Earlier Peredonov had displayed these books ostentatiously to show that he was a man of emancipated ideas, though actually he had no ideas at all and no inclination towards reflection. And he only kept these books for show, not to read. It was now a long time since he had read a book—he used to say he had no time—he did not subscribe to a newspaper. He got his news from other people. In fact there was nothing he wanted to know—there was nothing in the outside world he was interested in. He used even to deride subscribers to newspapers as people who wasted both time and money. One might have thought that his time was very valuable!

He went up to the shelf, grumbling.

"That's what happens in this town—you may get reported any minute. Lend a hand here, Pavel Vassilyevitch," he said to Volodin.

Volodin walked towards him with a grave and comprehending countenance and carefully took the books that Peredonov handed to him. Peredonov, carrying a heap of books, went into the parlour, followed by Volodin, who carried a large pile.

"Where do you mean to hide them, Ardalyon Borisitch "he asked.

"Wait and you'll see," replied Peredonov with his usual gruffness.

"What are you taking away there, Ardalyon Borisitch?" asked Prepolovensky.

"Most strictly forbidden books," answered Peredonov from the door. "I should be reported if they were found here."

Peredonov sat on his heels before the brick stove in the parlour. He threw down the books on the iron hearth and Volodin did the same. Peredonov began with difficulty to force book after book into the small opening. Volodin sat on his heels just behind Peredonov and handed him the books, preserving at the same time an air of profound comprehension on his sheepish face, his protruded lips and heavy forehead expressing his sense of importance. Varvara looked at them through the door. She said laughing:

"They've got a new joke!"

But Grushina interrupted her:

"No, dearest Varvara Dmitrievna, you shouldn't say that. Things might be very unpleasant if they found out. Especially if it happens to be an instructor. The authorities are dreadfully afraid that the instructors will teach the boys to rebel."

After tea they sat down to play Stoukolka [a card game], all seven of them around the card-table in the parlour. Peredonov played irritatedly and badly. After every twenty points, he had to pay out to the other players, especially to Prepolovensky, who received for himself and his wife. The Prepolovenskys won more frequently than anyone. They had certain signs, like knocks and coughs, by which they told each other what cards they held. That night Peredonov had no luck. He made haste to win back his money, but Volodin was slow in dealing and spent too much time in shuffling.

"Pavloushka, hurry up and deal," shouted Peredonov impatiently.

Volodin, feeling himself the equal of anybody in the game, looked important and asked:

"What do you mean by 'Pavloushka'? Is it in friendship? Or how?"

"Of course, in friendship," replied Peredonov carelessly. "Only deal quicker."

"Well, if you say it in friendship then I'm glad, very glad," said Volodin, laughing happily and stupidly as he dealt the cards. "You're a good fellow, Ardasha, and I'm very fond of you. But if it weren't in friendship it would be another matter, but as it is in friendship I'm glad. I've given you an ace for it," said Volodin and turned up trumps.

Peredonov actually had an ace, but it wasn't the ace of trumps and he had to sacrifice it.

Routilov babbled on incessantly; told all sorts of tales and anecdotes, some of an exceedingly indelicate character. In order to annoy Peredonov, Routilov began to tell him that his older pupils were behaving very badly, especially those who lived in apartments: they smoked, drank vodka and ran after girls. Peredonov believed him, and Grushina confirmed what Routilov said. These stories gave her especial pleasure: she herself, after her husband's death, had wanted to board three or four of the students at her house, but the Head-Master would not give her the requisite permission, in spite of Peredonov's recommendations—Grushina's reputation in the town was not very good. She now began to abuse the landladies of the houses where the students had apartments.

"They're bribing the Head-Master," she declared.

"All the landladies are carrion!" said Volodin with conviction; "take mine, for instance. When I took my room, mine agreed to give me three glasses of milk every evening. For the first two months I got it."

"And you didn't get drunk?" asked Routilov.

"Why should I get drunk?" said Volodin in offended tones, "milk's a useful product. It's my habit to drink three glasses of milk every night. When all of a sudden I see that they bring me only two glasses. 'What's the meaning of this?' I ask; the servant says: 'Anna Mikhailovna says she begs your pardon because the cow, she says, doesn't give much milk now.' What's that to do with me? An agreement is more sacred than money. Suppose their cow gave no milk at all—does that mean I'm not to have any milk? 'No,' I say. 'If there is no milk, then tell Anna Mikhailovna to give me a glass of water. I'm used to three glasses and I must have them.'"

"Our Pavloushka's a hero," said Peredonov. "Tell them how you argued with the General, old chap."

Volodin eagerly repeated his story. But this time they laughed at his expense. He stuck out an offended underlip.

After supper they all got drunk, even the women. Volodin proposed that they should dirty the walls some more. They were delighted: almost before they had finished supper they acted on this suggestion and amused themselves prodigiously. They spat on the wall-paper, poured beer on it, and they threw at the walls and ceiling paper arrows whose ends were smeared with butter, and they flipped pieces of moist bread at the ceiling. Afterwards they invented a new game which they played for money; they tore off strips of the wall-paper to see who could get the largest. But at this game the Prepolovenskys won another rouble and a half.

Volodin lost. Because of his loss and his intoxication he became depressed and began to complain about his mother. He made a dolorous face, and gesticulating ridiculously with his hand, said:

"Why did she bear me? And what did she think at the time? What's my life now? She's not been a mother to me, she only bore me. Because whereas a real mother worries about her child, mine only bore me and sent me to a charitable home when I was a mere baby."

"Well, you've learnt something by it—it made a man of you," said Prepolovenskaya.

Volodin bent his head, wagged it to and fro and said:

"No, what's my life? A dog's life. Why did she bear me? What did she think then?"

Peredonov suddenly remembered yesterday's erli. "There," he thought, "he complains about his mother, because she bore him. He doesn't want to be Pavloushka. It's certain that he envies me. It may be that he's thinking of marrying Varvara and of getting into my skin." And he looked anxiously at Volodin.

He must try to marry him to someone.

At night in the bedroom Varvara said to Peredonov:

"You think that all these girls who are running after you are really good-looking? They're all trash, and I'm prettier than any of them."

She quickly undressed herself and, smiling insolently, showed Peredonov her rosy, graceful, flexible and beautiful body.

Though Varvara staggered from drunkenness and her face would have repelled any decent man with its flabby-lascivious expression, she really had the beautiful body of a nymph, with the head of a faded prostitute attached to it as if by some horrible black magic. And this superb body was for these two drunken and dirty-minded people merely the source of the vilest libidinousness.

And so it often happens in our age that beauty is debased and abused.

Peredonov laughed gruffly but boisterously as he looked at his naked companion.

The entire night he dreamed of women of all colours, naked and hideous.

Varvara believed that the friction with nettles, which she applied at Prepolovenskaya's advice, helped her. It seemed to her that she got plumper almost at once. She asked all her acquaintances:

"It's true, isn't it, that I'm a little fuller?"

And she thought that now Peredonov would surely marry her, seeing that she was plumper, and that he would receive the forged letter.

Peredonov's expectations were far from being so agreeable as hers. He had become convinced some time before that the Head-Master was hostile to him—and as a matter of fact the Head-Master considered Peredonov a lazy, incapable instructor. Peredonov imagined that the Head-Master told the boys not to respect him, which it is obvious was an absurd invention of his own. But it inspired Peredonov with the idea that he must be on his guard against the Head-Master.

From spite against the Head-Master he spoke slightingly of him more than once in the classes of the older students. This pleased many of the students.

Now that Peredonov was hoping to become an inspector the Head-Master's attitude towards him seemed particularly unpleasant. Let it be admitted that if the Princess should so desire, her protection would override the Head-Master's unfriendliness, still it was not without its dangers.

And there were other people in the town—as Peredonov had lately noticed—who were hostile to him and wanted to hinder his appointment to the inspectorship. There was Volodin; it was not for nothing that he continually repeated the words, "The future inspector." There have been occasions when people have assumed another man's name with great profit to themselves. Of course, Volodin would find it difficult to impersonate Peredonov, but after all even such a fool as Volodin might have the idea that he could. It is certain that we ought to fear every evil man. And there were still the Routilovs, Vershina with her Marta, and his envious colleagues—all equally ready to do him harm. And how could they harm him? It was perfectly clear they could vilify him to the authorities and make him out to be an unreliable man.

So that Peredonov had two anxieties: one, to prove his reliableness and the other to secure himself from Volodin—by marrying him to a rich girl.

Peredonov once asked Volodin:

"If you like, I'll get you engaged to the Adamenko girl, or are you still pining for Marta? Isn't a month long enough for you to get consoled?"

"Why should I pine for Marta?" replied Volodin, "I've done her a great honour by proposing to her, and if she doesn't want me, what's that to me? I'll easily find someone else—there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it."

"Well, but Marta's pulled your nose for you nicely," said Peredonov tauntingly.

"I've no notion what sort of a husband they're looking for," said Volodin with an offended air. "They haven't even any dowry to speak of. She's after you, Ardalyon Borisitch."

Peredonov advised him:

"If I were in your place I should smear her gates with tar."

Volodin grinned and calmed down at once. He said:

"But if they catch me it might be unpleasant."

"Hire somebody; why should you do it yourself?" said Peredonov.

"And she deserves it—honest to God!" said Volodin animatedly. "A girl who won't get married and yet lets young fellows in through the window! That means that human beings have no shame or conscience!"